


Fair Lady

by atonalremix



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Established Relationship, Multi, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4518705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atonalremix/pseuds/atonalremix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To cure Anna's toxic werewolf bite, Bonnie makes a deal with the infamous Niklaus Mikaelson: she will pledge her loyalty to him & become his Fair Lady once more, even though her heart already belongs to Mystic Falls' resident warlock, Damon Salvatore. (Role-reversal AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. bargains

Every vampire has that one moment that overwhelms them. For most, it’s grief – grief of losing a family member, a friend, or a loved one. In that moment, new vampires decide that numbness is preferable to the chaos of emotions swirling in their brain, and they switch off their humanity. Sure, new vampires _think_ it's like flipping off a light switch - but they swap kindness for cruelty, joy for anger, and compassion for sadism. They still feel something, even if they may not realize it. 

Why else would a humanity-free vampire dangle an innocent life before friends and family? Their gears have shifted from protecting the ones they hold dear to endangering them. A long time ago, a dear friend once told Bonnie that humanity was a precious gift. 

(“You need to open your heart again,” she had said, back when Bonnie had fallen into despair. With a defiant expression and that glimmer of hope in her eyes, Lexi wasn’t taking no for an answer – and in thirty years, Bonnie would be grateful for the help.) In hindsight, Bonnie should’ve heeded the advice, rather than scoffing at it and downing her sorrows in glasses of bourbon. After the fiasco in 1923, she had promised to embrace her complicated, messy feelings, rather than numbing herself to the pain. 

Even if that pain manifested from the stress, worry, and grief of almost losing her almost-sister Anna forever. Towards the end of Bonnie’s junior year of high school – well, her current junior year at Mystic Falls High, Anna had bitten off more than she could chew. Literally. 

See, Anna constantly clashed with resident werewolf Tyler Lockwood over little things. Anna would criticize the football team, and in turn, Tyler would scoff at the school newspaper. They’d even growl and hiss at each other like kittens, forcing Jeremy and Bonnie to hold them back before the inevitable. 

(“Is this one of those classic rivalry things?” Jeremy would mouth to her every time, and it took every ounce of Bonnie’s willpower to not laugh then and there.)

No one – Tyler included – would ever guess that Tyler would bite her mid-transformation. Anna had writhed, collapsing onto the grass beneath them.

Bonnie rushed towards her, catching Anna at the last second. As she cradled Anna close, she held in a breath. The blood oozed from the bite mark, dripping onto her clothes, on the grass, and even on the edges of her palms. 

Tyler inched back from them, covering his mouth with a fist. “I am so sorry, Bonnie. I am so, _so_ sorry….”

Fighting the urge to scream, Bonnie fell to her knees. “Call Damon. Now.” 

 

 

A few years ago, Bonnie wouldn’t have relied on Mystic Falls’ resident alchemist. Damon Salvatore openly discriminated against vampires, insisting that they ushered in disaster and distress. From the moment they first led eyes on each other, Bonnie could predict an uneasy start – and an even rockier road to friendship. 

Bit by bit, she’d grown to rely on the least-boring person in town, savoring evenings in the Salvatore Manor with him. He used to – and still did – synthesize potions and healing elixirs and even daylight rings in his open-air kitchen. Most witches, like the Bennett family, preferred to work with fire. Damon, however, loved every single element. He let dirt slip through his fingers as he grew herbs; he would swirl water around in boiling mixtures; and he’d even rely on gentle breezes to dry his enchantments. Magic – his form of magic – was a blessing, one she grew to cherish. 

When push came to shove, he was first in line to fight his idea of evil (which at one point, included her, a century-old vampire). She couldn’t think of anyone better to solve her current predicament. 

Tyler had agreed – so once he safely brought them to Salvatore Manor, the real work began. The Salvatore library held hundreds of books, containing knowledge straight from the Islamic Empire. Although most of it was written in Arabic, she had two fluent speakers right beside her. 

Stefan cradled an old volume in his hands, mentally translating pages for anything relevant. His older brother Damon pilfered the shelves as the three of them worked. Damon’s mother, Leila Salvatore – the third Arabic speaker in their household – had left for a fundraiser at the _masjid_ with her husband. Neither Papa nor Mama Salvatore could help them until much later. 

Not for lack of trying – Stefan had immediately texted his father:

_Dad, you have a minute?_

**Not right now. uncles need me for this. Try after Maghreb?**

“Don’t think we’re getting much from them,” Damon had said with a grimace, glancing over Stefan’s shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll find something.” 

Problem was, Islamic lore rarely told of werewolves. These shapeshifting creatures were limited primarily to Europe and the Americas – only recent immigrants had recorded their encounters. If she sought jinn, or tales of angels and ascending to heaven, she might’ve had better luck. Even vampires were foreign territory for the alchemists of old. 

Damon’s mother had admitted as such, back when she had first met Bonnie – and in turn, if Damon and Stefan were proper alchemists, they too wouldn’t have worried over vampires, werewolves, and even ghosts. Instead, Damon had chosen to embrace his intermingled magic, of alchemy and Salvatore parlor tricks, while Stefan had leaned heavily towards Travelers’ magic that granted him immeasurable power.

Every grimoire told the same story: Salvatores fought vampires, rather than saving them from werewolves’ venom. Mansours, Damon’s mother’s family, never encountered them to begin with. 

After hours of research with only dead ends at their fingertips, Bonnie excused herself from the library and slunk towards the backyard. As she had expected, no vampire had ever been bitten by a werewolf and lived to tell the tale. Bonnie had never heard of a cure for a bite: its venom in the blood of a vampire, according to the Bennett family grimoires, was fatal.

She knew of one person who may know a solution for Anna’s condition. Decades ago, he had boasted of a cure that could remedy even a werewolf’s venom. (“Just one sip, and they’ll be as good as new,” he had said, in that overconfident tone she had once known so well.) 

Her pride was less important than Anna’s well-being. No matter how much she wanted to avoid him, Anna came first. So Bonnie took a deep breath and dialed his current number. Receiving his voicemail – of course – she took a deep breath and said, “It’s Bonnie. I’m willing to make a deal – you give me the cure for a werewolf bite, and I’m yours. Forever.” 

Hanging up before she could take her words back, Bonnie blinked back incoming tears. Her pride wasn’t as important. Her mental well-being could take a hit, if he heard her call in time. She could handle the one man who may hold Anna’s fate in his hands, even if they hadn’t parted on the most ideal of terms. 

Pearl, Anna’s beloved mother, had picked the worst time to travel for a pharmaceutical conference (all the parents in their lives had, now that Bonnie thought about it). No one could reach her – and at this point, Bonnie wasn’t sure it was worth the additional trauma. Still, if they couldn’t find a cure… a call was a proper courtesy.

Just as Bonnie’s fingers hovered over Pearl’s number, Stefan walked towards her. 

“Were you hungry?” He gestured towards the woods surrounding his home. “I thought I saw a deer earlier…” 

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Um, thank you, for all of your help so far.”

“It’s no problem.” Stefan let go of a breath that – from the looks of it – he hadn’t realized he was holding in. His brows furrowed as his gaze shifted up towards his bedroom window. “I know we’ll find something. There’s always an antidote for even the rarest of diseases.” 

He wouldn’t be Stefan if he weren’t reaching for the impossible. The youngest Salvatore always saw a solution where none existed – and under other circumstances, she might have admired his optimism. 

“We haven’t found anything in your family’s books – or my grimoires,” Bonnie confessed, finally looking the kid in the eye. “You’d have to create one out yourself.” 

Something glimmered in Stefan’s eyes as he rolled up his sleeves. “Challenge accepted. I’ll see if Ty can cough up some venom for me.” Without another word, he rushed inside towards the kitchen. 

Bonnie couldn’t bring herself to hate Tyler – this had been a complete accident. Like Caroline, Tyler was a new supernatural, learning the ropes from a far more experienced mentor and holding onto their words for dear life. Even Tyler’s mentor, Mason Lockwood, hadn’t realized the power of werewolf venom inside a vampire’s system.

Despite her ambivalence towards him, Bonnie's blood still boiled at the thought of Tyler assisting in a cure. Anna’s existence was hanging by mere threads, and no apology could erase what had happened. If he could cure her, and clean the mess he’d started, then maybe she could forgive him. Maybe. 

Her ears perked up at the sounds of a scuffle, followed by Tyler screaming, “What do you mean, you want my _saliva_?!”

“Spit it out, Lockwood Jr,” another voice called, with none of his usual attitude as his footsteps echoed throughout the hall. “We’re not letting Anna die on our watch.”

Bonnie could barely distinguish the muffled groans – Tyler’s and Stefan’s voices were blending together – as she strained to hear the rest. Beyond shuffling feet, silence threatened to reign over Salvatore Manor. Sure, experimentation was the lifeblood of an alchemist, but Stefan’s experiments were usually loud. In this family, silence preceded disasters, not successes. 

Tucking her phone into her jeans pocket, Bonnie rushed into the Salvatore kitchen. Tyler was growling at them from a barstool, although he had long since resigned himself to his fate. Stefan handed Tyler a water bottle, and then an empty vial. Beside him, there were two vials filled with (presumably) Lockwood saliva. Damon was hovering over the saucepan on the stove, his blue eyes deep in concentration as he poured a vial in. It dissipated into the mixture. 

He didn’t even look up as he called, “Just leave it to us, Bonbon.” 

“I know, Damon. I’m helping.” She kissed him on the cheek, ready to roll up her metaphorical sleeves as she eyed the ingredients on the counter. Unlike science, alchemy relied on spices and ancient magic passed down from generation to generation. It was, in a way, an art, and one that Damon’s family had mastered for generations. The Bennetts, back when she was human, had never practiced such intricate magic – and right now, Damon was the teacher to her faithful pupil. She hadn’t fathomed the tables turning like this. 

Damon stepped back, stirring the mixture with a flick of his wrist. “You can help by keeping an eye on Anna. I'm only waiting for this to cool down - hopefully, this should do the trick." 

Tyler groaned. “It’d better. I’m getting dehydrated here.” 

“You did bite her,” Stefan reminded him, leaning against the counter. “I figure, it’s a fair tradeoff.”

Tyler nearly swatted Stefan with his free hand - nearly, because Stefan sidestepped the incoming assault and handed Tyler another bottle of water. 

“Drink up,” Bonnie teased, although her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

If this didn’t work – if the Salvatores couldn’t concoct a cure from their stash of recipes and Tyler’s venom – then she was at her wit’s end. She lacked the magic to contact the spirits. She couldn’t rely on Stefan or Damon to place a call either: neither believed in spirits. (“We believe in jinn,” Stefan had said, when she had asked him about Giuseppe Salvatore possessing Damon earlier in the year. “Ghosts? Like our ancestor? Not so much.”) On the upside, if she ever wanted to contact a smokeless being of fire, she knew who to call. 

As Damon turned the stove off, Bonnie murmured an old prayer she had learnt from Damon’s mother so many years ago. She didn’t necessarily believe in God, but right now, she could use all the help she could get. 

 

 

Half an hour later, after Tyler had guiltily left for Lockwood Manor and the mixture had cooled, Bonnie headed for Stefan’s bedroom. 

Quiet groans escaped Anna’s lips as Bonnie stepped inside. Her almost-sister’s face was paler than usual, with dark bags under her eyes as she sat up straighter. “Bon…?” 

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” 

“How?” Anna raised her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you didn’t…. make a deal…?” 

“Then I won’t.” Bonnie smirked, flopping down beside her best friend. Stefan had warned her against close contact – the venom could seep through Bonnie's skin – but she figured merely sitting near Anna wouldn’t harm her. 

Anna coughed, pulling herself up. “You shouldn’t have. Klaus was looking for an opportunity like this, Bonnie…” 

And if he was? Bonnie wasn’t in a position to argue, not when the boys’ recipe would use Anna as a guinea pig. Without solid results, they couldn’t verify if their antidote worked. Or so Stefan had said, before the rest of his lecture had turned into a bunch of scientific gibberish. Something about body chemistry and temperature regulation and vaccines? She couldn't make much sense out of it. 

“I know. You’re…” Bonnie bit on her lower lip. “The boys made you something as a pick-me-up.” 

Anna laughed. “I figured. It smelt really strong from here.” 

A light knock came at the door. Bonnie leapt to her feet, opening it to see Stefan with a bowl filled with the antidote, a red-orange liquid with the same consistency as ginger soup. He handed it to her, with a worried expression that spoke more than his stiff posture and shaking hands. 

Bonnie accepted it, taking the bowl back to Anna and feeding it to her, sip by sip. Color re-emerged on Anna’s face; her cheeks grew flushed; and life even returned to her eyes as she seized the bowl and gulped the remnants down. Her wounds were even closing, stitching themselves back together with each sip.

“This’s really good. What’s in it?” She asked, licking the edge of the bowl. 

“A cure.” Stefan was grinning from ear to ear as he stepped forward, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “I can’t believe it actually worked!” 

“Don’t get ahead of ourselves, Marie Curie.” Damon snorted, ruffling his kid brother’s hair. “Let’s make sure this works in the long term too.” 

“You mean… this wasn’t a pick-me-up? It was an honest-to-God cure?” Anna slammed the bowl down on Stefan’s bedside table; the entire room shook with her. “Bonnie! Your… your deal with Klaus…. If the Salvabros could whip up a cure from scratch… oh God. He’s not gonna like this.”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”

Stefan’s helpless shrug almost made Bonnie grin. Instead, she dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “He probably won’t, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Thanks, Damon, Stefan.” 

She’d thank Tyler later, but considering he started this whole mess, it was only fair he ended it too. Thank God: she didn’t want to imagine a world where that arrogant jerk held the only cure for werewolf venom – even if she was willing to bargain for it.

A slow smile graced Damon’s features. With flushed cheeks, he murmured, “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

“I’d say it was,” she admitted, almost inaudibly as she helped Anna to her feet. 

She still recalled the warlock - sorry, wizard - who refused to even smile in their presence. This young man was a far cry from that warlock, who used a burning hatred to rake her over the coals one day at a time. Damon had bent over backwards for her, even dragging Stefan and Tyler into the quest for a cure. Sure, Stefan initiated the challenge; Damon was the one who'd seen it to the end. Maybe there really was a hero buried deep in her boyfriend's heart.

 

 

Anna headed home soon after. Stefan insisted on driving her back, just in case. 

“You never know,” he’d said off-handedly, grabbing his car keys and rushing out the door to drive her back. 

Damon rolled his eyes. “Just don’t experiment on her. We’ve had enough of that already.” 

Were this any other scientist, Bonnie might’ve suspected the worst. Stefan, however, was no member of Augustine. His desire to experiment and learn stemmed from the same desire to help everyone he came in contact with. Magic and science were intertwined to him, and as long as he could fight for a brighter world, he would use whatever tools he had. (The kid's idealism always softened her heart; in this day and age, she no longer expected an attitude like this.) 

In response, Stefan flung a beam of light in Damon’s direction. As usual, Damon caught it and extinguished it in the palm of his hand. 

“Sorry about that,” Damon said, leaning in to kiss Bonnie. “He’s been science-ing more than usual.” 

“Hey, his science-ing saved Anna,” Bonnie retorted, pulling on Damon’s shirt and bringing him closer to her. Although he reeked of stinky werewolf, it didn’t overpower his earthy, saffron scent. Every time, she swore, this boy smelled more and more like traditional Jordanian cuisine. “I’m grateful to you two.” 

Time slowed down in these moments: Bonnie always managed to lose herself in Damon, finding new ticklish spots or places to rest her arms as she returned his affection. No one would arrive at Salvatore Manor anytime soon: Stefan and Anna would reunite with Pearl, while Damon’s parents would return from the fundraiser in a few hours. (She wouldn’t dare stay over otherwise. Leila gave her too many uneasy looks - and Bonnie never felt right encouraging Damon to break his family’s religious laws.

Not that Damon ever minded said encouragement.)

“Isn’t this sweet?” 

Damon choked on thin air, as he was pulled back from Bonnie’s grasp and into the unforgiving grip of an all-too familiar face. 

Bonnie hadn’t seen the other man in decades, but it was impossible to mistake that ire for anyone else. Despite the rage on his face, he carried himself confidently, dressed as a normal twenty-something man, with the exception of the lapis lazuli daylight ring on his finger. His slouched posture betrayed his confidence, otherwise hidden underneath layers of tailored jackets, loose-fitting long sleeve shirts, and black denim jeans. Around his neck was the fabled Bonfire gem - the garnet he'd named after her, all those years ago.

“Niklaus.” Bonnie spat out, resisting the urge to reach for her (well, now unconscious) boyfriend. “What do you want?” 

“Your loyalty, Bonfire.” Niklaus lowered Damon into his arms and traced the edge of her boyfriend’s neck, brushing off the metal chain that held the young man’s gunblade necklace. “You told me you’d killed the doppelganger, and that you were willing to make a deal for the cure. Clearly, you lied. Twice.” 

Bonnie folded her arms. Of course she hadn’t killed Elena: her best friend deserved life just as much as her ex-boyfriend. If doppelganger blood was necessary to create hybrids, then – then Niklaus wouldn’t have his precious army. Elena’s agency mattered too much. 

“So you’re just going to kill Damon? As retaliation?” Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “I thought you liked alchemists.” 

“I do. I need you more.” Niklaus glanced down at the young man in his arms. Then, before Bonnie could react, Niklaus dared to ask, “What does he mean to you?”

Her heart nearly stopped. Bonnie took a cautious step forward. “What do you mean?” 

“He clearly means _something_. I know that look.” Niklaus’s throat tightened as he looked back at her. His hands twitched with each short, jerky breath. For a second, she could’ve even sworn she felt the ground shake beneath her feet. 

(Had he seriously expected her to wait? For him? Then he was far more delusional than she remembered.) 

“A century’s an awfully long time,” she dared to say, her gaze never leaving Damon. 

“So he means that much to you.” His voice grew soft as he fiddled with Damon’s signature necklace. “What happened to us, Bonfire?” 

Besides the obvious? Niklaus had bullied her into switching off her humanity once before, revealing a bitter, jaded vampire who only regained her spirit with an unyielding best friend's guidance. To think, Bonnie’s heart had once warmed at the sight of Niklaus Mikaelson, strolling into bars and nightclubs as if he owned the entire town. One smile, and entire towns would bow at his feet. Funny to see him so preoccupied with her - and by extension, the small Virginian town that barely blipped on his radar. 

When she didn’t respond, Niklaus’s grip around Damon tightened. 

She raised her chin defiantly at Niklaus. “If I pledge my loyalty to you, will you leave Damon alone?”

Bonnie wasn’t exactly in a position to bargain, not when Niklaus could kill her boyfriend at any moment – and most certainly not when Niklaus would spend the entire summer trying to create an army that pledged undying loyalty to him alone. Ever since Niklaus had broken the curse on him, he had become a hybrid, one who desired a "family" to follow his footsteps and praise him to the heavens. Hybrids, of course, were only created through werewolves ingesting Niklaus's blood (and dying as soon as it entered their system). 

Niklaus desired this possibly more than anything else in the world - though maybe not as much as he valued his Bonfire. 

Right now, Bonnie had never been so grateful that everyone was scattered, lest Niklaus kill them with one swipe of his fingers. Tyler and Mason were traveling out of the country in the morning – and all the better, should Niklaus desire two Lockwood hybrids for his army. In hindsight, Bonnie should’ve realized: Stefan’s desire to create a cure stemmed from worry for his best friend. Stefan was bending over backwards for Tyler, just as Damon had for Anna, and indirectly, Bonnie herself.

Niklaus scoffed, “You broke that pledge once already, Bonfire. I’m going to need more reassurance.” 

Bonnie stepped forward, close enough to inhale Niklaus’s smoky cologne. Damon would stake her – and she wouldn’t blame him – but if Niklaus wanted reassurance, she had to deliver. Gently, she brushed her lips against Niklaus’s, holding onto his shirt for support as she let go. 

Niklaus stared at her – really stared – before he unceremoniously dropped Damon’s body on nearby grass. “You think that’ll sway me?” 

She shrugged. 

He licked his lips, almost amusedly, as he flicked her nose. “You had me worried for a moment.” 

The hollow gesture might’ve felt sweet, had anyone else attempted it. Niklaus cupped her chin, and for a millisecond, every muscle in her body tensed. She couldn’t fight him on Salvatore ground: surely Damon’s parents would return at any moment. She couldn't shed blood at their doorstep, unless she desired her ashes sprinkled across the yard. 

Niklaus murmured, in that domineering tone that always demanded her attention, “Still, I need to make sure. You’re mine, Bonfire. You always will be.” 

The sinking pit in her stomach couldn’t fight against his demands – nothing could, when he set his sights on the impossible. 

As he kissed her, this time on the cheek, he added, “Come on, Fair Lady. We’ve got an army to build.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! As some of you may've guessed, this is a role reversal fic, where Bonnie and Stefan have essentially switched places (with Bonnie becoming a humanity-less vampire and Stefan becoming a powerful warlock - and Damon also becoming a powerful alchemist/warlock combo as a result). There are a few key differences with the switch, mostly involving people staying alive; hopefully, these differences'll become clearer as the fic progresses!
> 
> While I didn't list this as part of the "Normal Life" universe, this can easily be read as a Bonnie-centric sequel - this takes place around the season two finale, and tries to fill in the gaps up until about early season 3. I hope y'all enjoy this so far, and please leave a comment/kudos so I know how I'm doing.


	2. paint it red

It had been a long time since she'd heard that name. In the faded echoes of her memory, she could still glimpse Fair Lady every time she passed a mirror. Stoker's vampires never had a reflection - this, Stoker had misinterpreted. Vampires could stare back at their faces in every reflective surface, but they couldn't always find their souls. Their eyes were devoid of the light that had once shone during their human years. Most of them were, at some level, denying the remnants of their humanity and re-arranging and re-arranging them until they no longer resembled their old selves. 

Fair Lady was no different. She’d earned her nickname in 1923, decimating the entire population of Monterrey, California for their lack of heart. Other vampires had trembled at her feet, granting her a wide berth. She'd met Niklaus Mikaelson then, on the outskirts of Los Angeles while he was a spectator to her blood-splattering show. He had taken one look at her, at the red umbrella in her hands, and kissed her hand as if she were a member of the elite. 

"Stay with me," he had whispered, raising her hand to his lips. "Stay, and we could paint the world red." 

Niklaus rarely stopped to look at his reflection - not when they passed store windows, and especially not when they stood in front of mirrors. He only found it in the depths of her eyes - and in turn, she had found hers in his. She could see a revolutionary, ready to challenge world order with her razor-sharp nails and coy appearance. No one would suspect her of killing, of dismembering, and of piecing the bodies together for the police to find.

They spent months together, flitting from speakeasy to speakeasy, draining their patrons dry of blood and bourbon before moving onto the next one. During this time of Prohibition, the grand secrecy demanded the invisibility of these grand ballrooms and illicit clubs, tucked behind false doors and secret routes. Simple wooden doors would reveal grand haunts, with glass chandeliers and fountains of champagne at each table – and in the best ones, live jazz music that consumed what remained of her soul.

She would snuggle close to Niklaus in the corner booth, latching onto his arm as if their relationship were perfectly normal. The sidelong glances of other patrons never bothered her; even if Niklaus didn’t scoff at her, she had found her next meal or three. The plush red leather never betrayed their bloodlust; the salty, warm blood intermingled with the leather’s bright red hue. 

In-between their meals, he would knit dreamcatchers, wrapping the sturdy frame with shreds of bloodstained leather torn from those same cushions. Bonnie had laughed at his callousness, at him “warding off evil” with the very same crafts he had created. She had asked about his fascination once, after watching him create dreamcatcher after dreamcatcher. 

(Niklaus's confidence had melted at the question, with his shoulders sinking and his feet dragging onto the floor. "Habit, I suppose." 

She'd never mustered the courage to ask him again.)

“Will you ever finish your crafts, dear?” she had teased in his ear, leaning on him like the comfortable pillow he was.

He pretended to contemplate this, humming a melody she didn’t recognize before shaking his head. “No. They need protection from their pleasant nightmares.” 

If only those nightmares were as easy to dispel. Bonnie stifled a smile as he gestured towards patrons in the opposite corner of the club. They were idly gossiping about an upcoming marriage (or was it a baby? Hard to tell with these children), but Niklaus paid that no heed. 

He set aside his dreamcatcher. “What do you think of the one in green, dear Bonfire?”

Bonnie hummed, giving the woman a scrutinizing look or two. “No. She doesn’t have enough heart.” 

“Shame. She would’ve made an easy meal.” Niklaus summoned a dashing young man, dressed in a tailored tuxedo, into their booth – specifically, into Bonnie’s lap. 

Her throat tightened as she felt the blood rushing to her face; with another breath, she kissed the edge of the young man’s neck and punctured the artery along it. In-between bites, she had gazed into the man’s eyes and murmured, “Your name, sir?” 

“Liam Grant,” he replied, with those glassy eyes that every victim shared. She continued to feed, allowing the blood to drip onto the table as she savored every last sip. This time, she released him into the wild, tying his collar up to hide the stain – and snatching his silver watch. She set it on the table next to Niklaus’s dreamcatcher. 

Niklaus raised an eyebrow, accepting the gift and placing it around his left wrist. “Again with the names. I find it curious that you want to remember each and every one of them. Our wall’s running out of space, darling.” 

“Then we’ll start another one,” she retorted, with a spark in her eyes as she called a young girl over, practically demanding the child’s name before she caved to her insatiable hunger. The darkness had always been her friend. People questioned her less when she blended into Niklaus’s shadow. “Our pantry has three walls, if I remember…” 

They had decided to settle in Chicago with Niklaus’s younger sister – here, the night sky would protect them from inquisitive officers. In such a large city, they could snatch and feed (and even steal) from anyone they desired, even if their prey scrutinized Bonnie with every breath. Fair Lady, though, insisted upon writing countless names inside the pantry of their home. Liam’s name would join the lengthy list, once she returned home with Niklaus. Their names were a scrutinizing reminder, of the kills and the bodies she had lost and stitched together one by one. While humans were cut from the same cloth - you dismember one lady, you dismember them all - they all carried themselves differently. No amount of boredom could mask her fascination with the differences between meals - how they pronounced their names, how their voices indicated their level of interest, and even how they smiled at their loved ones.

While Niklaus hadn't sensed her remnants of humanity returning, Bonnie couldn't say the same about Niklaus's sister. For one thing, she had yet to meet the girl; tonight, she would join them at the speakseasy and dance the night away. Niklaus had seemed protective at the idea, until Bonnie had reminded him of his sister's immortal nature. His sister could maim any man that laid a finger on her without breaking a sweat. 

“How long until you paint our whole apartment?” He teased, his eyes twinkling as Bonnie pushed the girl into his lap. As he fed, he would glance down at Bonnie’s hands, then at the girl’s. Slipping a ring to Bonnie, he then let the girl dance into the crowd. 

Bonnie pretended to contemplate this as she slid the ring onto her finger. "A few days. Maybe a week at most.”

Niklaus laughed, with a smile that actually reached his eyes. “What a strange habit you have....” 

“When did you say your sister was arriving again?” Bonnie craned her head towards the door. With the loud music and idle chatter, she couldn’t discern any noise near the outside world. She couldn’t hear the tapping of the sister’s heels, or the rustling of her dress – Niklaus’s sister’s arrival would be a mystery, one she wasn’t keen on solving. 

Niklaus shrugged. “Who’s to say? I can’t conjure her on demand. She will arrive when she does.” He picked up his dreamcatcher and held it up to the light, before adding a few strings to the frame and tying blood-stained pearls to its edges. His dreamcatcher would preoccupy him for some time – Niklaus insisted on leaving a perfect one at each haunt, rather than clumsy attempts with fraying leather or unadorned edges. The nightmares would slide past the strings, he had told her once. He couldn’t afford to leave them unguarded. 

So Bonnie turned her eye to the rest of the club. Spying a pretty young thing standing near the stairs, Bonnie rose to her feet and approached her next meal with a glass of bubbling champagne. The young woman turned at Bonnie’s footsteps, easily accepting the glass and taking a sip. 

“How nice of the help to drop by,” she murmured, arrogance in her eyes as she raised both eyebrows. 

A guttural growl escaped Niklaus’s lips, even from this distance. Bonnie pretended to ignore him, seizing her champagne glass back and finishing it in one long gulp. “Is it? I haven’t seen them this evening.” 

“Careful.” The young woman stepped closer, brushing off the edge of Bonnie’s lips with her bare fingers. “I believe you’re still wearing your master.” 

“Rekebah, that’s _enough_.” Niklaus was beside Bonnie in milliseconds, the blood from his latest meal dripping off his chin. Wiping it off with a fresh handkerchief, he intertwined his fingers in Bonnie’s. His hands felt rough, almost calloused – perhaps from the leather? 

“Nik, this is your precious Bonfire?” Her voice grew even icier as she scrutinized every inch of Bonnie, starting from the edge of the blood-stained carpets. “I was expecting someone… different.” 

He pulled Bonnie closer. “The one and only.” 

Bonnie could’ve sliced the tension with her nails. Niklaus’s grip on her tensed, and even his nostrils flared as his gaze fell towards Rebekah’s necklace. Unlike Niklaus’s simple garnet adorned with a silver backing, hers was a far more ornate sphere, with a red gleam as it hit the chandeliers’ light. It almost – almost – compensated for Rebekah’s dreadful greeting.

“I suppose you must’ve been desperate,” Rebekah said after a second or two, turning her nose at Bonnie as she reached for another glass of champagne. “Here I thought you had finally found your match.” 

She could feel the rage radiating off Niklaus – without a second thought, Bonnie squeezed his hand. There wouldn't be any additional, needless violence between brother and sister tonight. “I don’t need your approval, dear.” 

“Of course not.” Rebekah’s shrug was even jerkier than Niklaus’s. (This family couldn’t conceal rage to save their lives.) “You’ve never approved of mine, so why should—“ 

“I said, that’s enough.” Niklaus pulled away from Bonnie, turning towards the door. For a second, guilt flashed across his eyes as he heaved a sigh. “It’s getting late, Rebekah – we should leave.” 

Had he finished his dreamcatcher after all? Bonnie turned back towards their booth. On the wall above the table, the leather dreamcatcher hung, with its bloodstained pearls brushing against the plaster. She furrowed her brow at the frayed edges. Niklaus prided his skill too much to simply leave that there – had Rebekah hit more than a few nerves? 

If she had, Rebekah was certainly pretending to not notice. “Then go without me. You and your Bonfire seem cozy enough.” 

Niklaus, however, seized Rebekah’s hand and dragged her towards the stairs. With unconcealed rage, he snarled, “You’re my sister. That means, you have to do as I say.” 

No, she didn’t. Bonnie stood there, rooted to the ground with shivering arms. As unpleasant and narrow-minded as Rebekah was, no one deserved a snarling, raging Niklaus – much less one who dictated her every action. For an older brother, he was— He wasn’t what she had envisioned. Bonnie couldn’t remember the last time she saw her Emily. Her older sister’s laugh, her older sister’s smile, it was all becoming a giant haze in the far reaches of her mind. Niklaus had a sister at his side, and he still chose to… to… 

The dashing young man from earlier – Liam – tapped Bonnie on the shoulder. “May I have this dance?” 

She pulled out her razor-sharp claws and sliced his throat. As he collapsed onto the floor, a blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the room. The wooden door burst open with officers, piling in one after another. Bullets fired through the air. Niklaus tackled two to the ground, breaking their weapons with a swift kick. The brown, splintering bullets pierced the leather cushions. 

The air even sizzled with magic as the bartender raised his arms and pushed the officers to the wall. The dreamcatcher crashed on one’s face; blood steamed down his uniform. 

“Rebekah! Bonfire!” Niklaus’s expression grew frantic as he latched onto Bonnie’s hand. “We need to go! Now!” 

Rebekah rushed to the back door, shoving her way through the crowds. As she reached the first step, she toppled over empty air and landed in the safety of Bonnie's arms. Her necklace neatly fell into Bonnie's gloves; her shoes nearly hit the man behind them. 

Bonnie must’ve imagined the, “Thank you,” that escaped Rebekah’s lips. She must’ve, because Rebekah reached for her shoes and rushed out the door without another word. 

Niklaus took one last look at Bonnie, before sweeping her up into his arms and following Rebekah into the dense crowd. Bullets continued to fire through the air; most missed. Some pierced unsuspecting patrons' skin. 

She stared up at him. “Why…?”

“Rebekah said it herself: I’ve met my match. It wouldn’t do to leave her behind.” 

“Did you really?” Bonnie glanced over his shoulder, at the numerous patrons running behind them. “I must’ve missed her.” 

Niklaus’s laugh – his real, genuine one – remained with her, long after every other memory of the night had faded. They must’ve run for a while, darting between people before they reached their apartment building. She could see Rebekah's silhouette from one of the windows, with the coiffed curls coming undone and the window shade lowering inch by inch. Niklaus released a sigh of relief as he rushed for the double doors and held them open for her as they walked inside. Bonnie would've headed for the elevator first, had she not seen a tall, blonde woman standing by the bellhop's desk with slammed hands on the counter. 

"Of course she lives here! I know she does!" The young woman placed her hands on her hips. "You think I'd lie about that?"

The bellhop cowered behind his chair, “I-I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know anyone by the name of Bennett—“ 

The woman stood up straighter. “Please check the registry again.” 

“Bonfire?” Niklaus pressed the elevator button, although his eyes never left Bonnie’s. “Are you coming?” 

“In a minute,” she settled on saying, wiping the rest of the blood off her. “Go ahead, I’ll see you soon.” 

"If you're certain." His wary expression said more than he would've liked, especially as he stepped into the elevator and allowed the doors to close in front of him.

Bonnie waited until she could hear his footsteps in their apartment before she turned on her heels and stood behind the woman at the counter. "You again, Lexi?" 

“There you are!” Relief washed over the young woman’s face as she seized Bonnie by the arm. “I was starting to worry. Come on, I'm taking you home - you owe me a playdate or three."

Home? Like Mystic Falls home? Fair Lady couldn’t afford to pay them a visit: with each city, Fair Lady dissembled people like that poor bellhop, tearing them apart from limb to limb with a flick of her wrists. Mystic Falls was home to more than just vampires: two flourishing magical families resided there, often collaborating to fight supernatural menaces together. Fair Lady relished in dissecting her meals limb by limb, and stitching them together to find the commonalities between them - but Mystic Falls would spell trouble. The resident Salvatores and Bennetts would end her before she stepped inside city limits.

Bonnie snarled, “You wouldn’t.” 

“Oh, I would. You see, I promised I’d catch you every time you fell, and this? This seems like one of those times.” 

Lexi's fist pummeled her against the bellhop desk. The crushing impact was the last thing Bonnie remembered before the world turned black.

 

 

She never did return to Niklaus. Lexi smuggled her out of the city long before morning broke – and long before Niklaus realized what had happened. They fled eastwards, running through the woods with muddy dresses and torn leaves in their hair, with Lexi doling miserable, tough love every time they stepped into town. Every feeding attempt had been met with vervain water splashed in her face; Lexi's fist met her face too often; and they no longer mingled among people as she and Niklaus had.

A week later, the news revealed that bloody, half-finished dreamcatchers had been strewn across the streets of Chicago. Bonnie had shivered upon reading the newspaper; Lexi, on the other hand, nudged it from her fingers. 

“He’ll recover,” Lexi had reassured Bonnie as they retreated to the woods for another feeding session. (Bonnie had snarled, but she always lost to Lexi’s pummeling fist.) “You’re too good for that sap.”

Certainly, Niklaus was abrasive with his little sister, but he had showered Bonnie with love when few others had deigned her worthy of affection; he had ushered her into a world far beyond her imagination; and he had embraced Fair Lady. In hindsight, no one should’ve embraced her. She relished in the kill, in tormenting the innocent, remembering the names only when the guilt overwhelmed her senses. 

Her glare must’ve been obvious, because Lexi laughed as she drained the last drops of blood from a limp squirrel. “Trust me. You live long enough, you figure out who deserves your love.” 

Bonnie raised her eyebrows. “How so?” 

Digging a hole beneath the dirt, Lexi gently laid the squirrel beneath the crunching leaves. As she knelt to complete the burial rites, she elaborated, “You get a good feeling from him. He respects you, even when he doesn’t agree with you – and he trusts you, no matter what. Sure, he may seem annoyed, but he loves you, and he’d do things for you at the cost of his pride. He might even sacrifice himself for you when push came to shove.” 

“That’s awfully specific.” Bonnie lowered her head as the last bits of dirt were scattered on the squirrel’s burial mound. 

“You asked,” Lexi said with a shrug, heading towards the nearby river to wash her hands of dirt and smeared blood. “I know you, Bon – you’ll find this man, and he’ll make Klaus look like a dirty dishtowel.” 

Stifling a laugh at the thought, Bonnie rose to her feet and moved forward with Lexi. “I don’t know. This dashing gentleman sounds like a figment of your imagination.” 

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s waiting for the right Sheba to come along.” 

Bonnie elbowed her best friend in the direction of the nearest tree. “You are such a dreamer.” 

 

 

Nearly a whole century later, Lexi would visit Bonnie for Christmas: partially, to see her new life in person but also partially to catch up with her closest immortal friend. Lexi hadn’t even taken two steps inside when she rushed towards a picture of Damon and Bonnie in the Bennett living room. It was surrounded by countless others, from “Grams” old college photos to even more recent ones with Elena, Caroline, and the others photobombing the background. Slowly but surely, Bonnie had more than become Sheila Bennett’s assumed granddaughter – she’d ebbed out a comfortable life as a real member of this town. 

Lexi should’ve honed in on Bonnie’s new friends, or even the not-so-dusty grimoires on the bookshelf – heck, even on her step-descendant Jamie in a few photographs. Instead, she poked the picture frame, holding up the one with Damon’s incorrigible grin. “Who’s this handsome dude?”

Bonnie shrugged, almost nonchalantly, avoiding Lexi’s watchful eye as she turned back towards the front door. “Just the resident alchemist. You know the Bennetts and the Salvatores go way back - and you've met his grandfather, Kieran Salvatore?” 

“Ooh.” Lexi’s grin grew even wider as she flopped onto the couch beside Bonnie. “I know that look in your eye, Bon – you like him. So spill. Now.” 

“There’s nothing TO spill! He’s just an alchemist who hates vampires and thinks they can’t feel and—“ 

Lexi glanced at the picture, then at Bonnie. “If he thinks that, he wouldn’t have taken this with you. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.” 

“Maybe.” It was hard to argue with Lexi, even about someone as oblivious as Damon Salvatore. Even if Damon viewed her in that light, he wouldn’t admit it; he would just move onto some human girl, one who looked his age and could grow old with him and cast spells right beside him. 

Nature had betrayed Bonnie for over a century; as long as she remained immortal, she would never feel the dirt slipping through her fingers or the gentle breeze rushing over her face. The elements screamed to her – and they must’ve screamed to Damon, that she wasn’t worth his energy. 

The doorbell rang; Damon was there when she answered it, with a gift bag in his right hand. Relief washed over his face when he saw her. “Hey, Bonnie.” 

“Is that from Stefan?” Bonnie gestured towards the bag. 

“From both of us, actually. We don’t really celebrate Christmas anymore, but we figured…. Here.” Damon’s cheeks grew red. This clearly wasn’t from their mother; Leila had sent over a present to be opened on Christmas day. Whatever this was, the boys had picked it out themselves. 

Lexi’s wide grin had never, ever felt as infuriating. Bonnie was half-tempted to push her against the couch before Damon could blink and—

“Mistletoe,” Lexi called, cupping her hands and staring up at the doorframe. “You know what that means!” 

Damon’s face matched the red berries almost perfectly. Bonnie giggled as he leaned in, lowering his face and kissing her cheek. “Is she always this annoying?” 

“You’d better believe it,” she murmured, taking the opportunity to plant a kiss on his lips. 

For once – maybe because of the season, or because they had the world’s most annoying spectator – he didn’t mind. 

 

 

Just when she had found someone worth loving with her whole heart, Fair Lady had to rear her head and shatter those plans. Bonnie could’ve kicked herself, had she the energy or the strength to acknowledge those far-reaching consequences. Lexi had sworn, back when Bonnie had first fallen off the edge, that she would always pull Bonnie from the brink. This time, Bonnie just hoped Lexi wouldn’t be too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a speedy update for me, I'll admit - this chapter focused far more on Klaus & Bonnie's relationship (namely, how it differed from Klaus and Stefan's) as well as how Lexi pulled Bonnie back from the edge. While I can't say for certain how much of a role Lexi or Rebekah'll continue to play in this fic, I hope you enjoyed this one! As always, please let me know how I'm doing (and if there's stuff you want to see in upcoming chapters - while I've got a rough idea of how things play out, your comments are things I love to keep in mind for the future).
> 
> Thanks for all of the kudos I've received so far! It's definitely been a huge motivator in churning this one out.


	3. make a hybrid (out of you)

Loyalty wasn’t supposed to be this fickle. When Bonnie had sworn allegiance to her friends, she had meant every word – and she had proven it multiple times. Were she still a witch, several discolored scars would’ve lingered, instead of fading beneath the surface. Mystic Falls would always be home, and she would protect it with every ounce of her life. 

Instead, Damon had become more important than a whole town, and she found herself hastily packing her things while Niklaus hovered over her shoulder. 

“You _went to class_?” He held up a few textbooks, rifling through her introductory psychology text with more than a passing glance. 

Bonnie snorted, grabbing the last of her clothes and stuffing it into a duffel. “I sure did. Made me feel more human.” 

In hindsight, she had been an idiot to willingly repeat high school. Some façade. All that effort, for - for a guy who shouldn’t be dating her? Damon had said it multiple times. He was too old to care about the inner workings of the high school circuit; he had no stake in their melodrama. 

So was she. Perhaps that was why she was drawn to that nerd, the one always studying in coffee shops or reading weird tomes about alchemy when he thought no one could see him. Hopefully, he also wasn’t a stupid nerd. 

He wouldn’t chase after her, plead with her to come back – because that young woman would be gone, and Fair Lady would’ve taken her place.

Niklaus motioned for her to leave as she slung her bag over her shoulder. Bonnie nodded, watching him head outside, before she blew a kiss to the photo of her and Damon on her mirror. 

“Stay safe, Salvatore.” 

 

 

To create a hybrid, Niklaus had to feed a werewolf his blood, then kill them while the blood remained in their system. This, Bonnie remembered from his (constant) rambling and ranting while they prepared to build their stronghold. In the olden days, Niklaus would've sliced their throats and BAM, instant army. 

Now, with the advent of smartphones and the Internet, he had to bide his time. People _noticed_ when their outstanding werewolf members of society vanished. People also noticed sudden displays of power - and they couldn't always tamper with everyone's memories. 

Niklaus had already borrowed a car, from one of his last meals in Mystic Falls, and so they set off on a road trip to recruit hybrids. Niklaus had grand plans, of a whirlwind tour across forty-eight states (Hawaii and Alaska were out of the picture) – but Bonnie wanted something simpler.

“Start small,” she had told Niklaus as she unpacked her car charger. “Stick to the southern states, and then move west as time allows.” 

Had anyone else commanded him, he would have snarled and his little nostrils would’ve flared up in that tell-tale rage – but when he looked at Bonnie, there was admiration in his eyes. “If you say so,” he conceded, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. 

From Mystic Falls, they headed south, intending to recruit a few packs from Atlanta before they set their sights on the west coast. Unfortunately, even humanity-less vampires tired of the empty highway, with only mile markers and other eighteen-wheelers to greet them. 

Niklaus would preoccupy himself with podcasts – NPR, the BBC, and something called Night Vale(?). After listening to one too many men grumble about the state of the world, Bonnie inserted her headphones and listened to her growing pile of voicemails. 

She hadn’t told a single soul of her departure. No one, not even Damon, should’ve known about her sudden road trip. But Anna must’ve figured it out. Anna must’ve said something to Damon, or Stefan or – someone, because word spreads in Mystic Falls like wildfire. (You tell a girl about your deal with Niklaus, and she goes and tells your entire social circle.)

Most voicemails, she ignored. No point in listening to them prattle on about a life she had left behind. Except, whenever Damon’s name flashed across the top of her phone – her fingers would slide right, and his voice would come through, loud and clear.

“ _Hey, Bon-Bon…. Any reason you decided to go on a road trip with your ex?_ " His tongue clicked, in that typical disapproving way of his. “ _Seriously. I know you’ve had stupid ideas before, but… this one takes the cake._ ”

She couldn’t tell him why. If she did, he would follow in his blindingly obvious Camaro – and she couldn’t afford that. Niklaus had already promised Damon’s safety. Damon couldn’t throw her last gift away so callously. Her breath grew hitched, during that long pause where Damon hadn’t said a single word (she could even hear his fingers tap against the edge of his laptop). 

Damon was going to pack his things and follow her; Damon was going to waste her gift; Damon was—

“ _On second thought, don’t tell me. Just stay safe._ " 

She would rewind those last 10 seconds over and over again, until his reassurance had been seared into her brain. 

Damon hadn’t left her a voicemail since. But she craved the sound of his voice, so she went into her phone’s archives and listened to older voicemails, left over the course of the past year. He’d sent her dozens of them, some more annoying than others. Her absolute favorite was one left months and months ago, last fall—

“ _So, Bon-Bon. The PTA wants me to send Stefan over with some brownies. BROWNIES. I can’t believe they think I would spend the time and effort to help those sad little soccer moms...…_ "

Not even three hours later, he had left another voicemail. “ _I can’t fucking believe I made them brownies._ ” 

(She had laughed so hard that she snorted blood out her nose. Trust Damon to break at the iron will of Mystic Falls High’s PTA.) 

Her phone had once buzzed every ten minutes with a dumb kitten fact (because she had subscribed to the service, you see), or some recipe for bourbon-infused tea, or… or jokes about their old life. Jokes that somehow lost their meaning when she was traveling along the open road with only remnants of another life beside her.

Pulling her headphones down around her neck, she willed another text to arrive. Something, anything – something to tell her that Damon still cared, even if she was long out of his reach. 

Nothing came. No one else mattered anymore. Elena and Stefan and her old crew had sent numerous texts, and even Grams had fretted over her “aunt Bonnie” from time to time. Problem was, she couldn’t acknowledge them. While Niklaus favored her, he could care less about the rest of “those dirty dishrags,” as he had called them once. If she alerted him to the ties that still bound her to Mystic Falls, he could potentially lash out and slaughter them without a second thought. 

If Niklaus could hear the voicemails, or even read over her shoulder, he showed no signs of it. Instead, he turned the radio up, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as jazz echoed throughout the car. As he kept pace with other cars along this stretch of the road, Bonnie could’ve sworn that for a moment, this felt almost human. 

There they were, two immortals cruising along the highway as if they were a young couple on vacation, with scattered papers in the glove compartment and folded maps in the backseat. They had a destination, and a goal in mind – but they sure didn’t care about the way they went about it. 

Well, Bonnie did. Kind of. In the glove compartment, they had manila folders for each group of potential hybrids. Bonnie had insisted upon it, rather than storing such sensitive information on their phones. 

Not because it was more practical (it wasn’t). Not because it was harder to hide (it wasn’t). Some small part of her knew, that if she digitally stored her tidbits of knowledge on her phone, Damon would have officially rubbed off her. 

The idea – especially now, with her switch flicked off – terrified her. 

 

 

 

Two months ago, before Tyler had bitten Anna, Bonnie had spent the afternoon at Damon’s, watching him categorize every page in her old grimoire. 

“There’s a few apps that can do it for us,” Damon had murmured, sitting close beside her and scrolling down the app list. She snuggled close to his chest and watched him, step-by-step. “See, there’s this one right here….” 

He was awfully cute when he gushed about technology. To Damon, things like smartphones and tablets could only help a witch (or wizard) with their true potential. Technology was a tool, like a double-edged sword, as he photographed each page and digitally highlighted the relevant paragraphs and diagrams. 

Sometimes, she forgot he was a regular witch and not the technological kind. Every time her phone broke down, she would hand it to him without a word and watch him tinker with the screen until it lit up again. This ability, she thought, was far more magical than his summoned fire.

“Bon, are you even listening?” 

She shook her head, unable to wipe that guilty smile off her face as she leaned in for a kiss. “You’re adorable.” 

His cheeks grew red as he sighed and set her phone in her hands. For a millisecond, she could see the rage in his eyes – right before he returned that kiss. 

“You could _pretend_ sometimes, you know,” he said, letting go only to breathe. 

“It doesn’t come close to the real thing. Your app’s nowhere near as affectionate.”

He let a laugh escape his lips as he pulled her onto his lap. “Damn shame. It could’ve put me out of a job.” 

“You’re irreplaceable, Day.” She couldn’t think of a single person in all of her years who had remotely resembled the man before her – and frankly, it was part of his charm. He was his own force of nature, with an iron will that only suburban soccer moms could shake. 

His cheeks had flushed at the compliment – and when he kissed her again, she couldn’t have imagined that it may have been their last. 

 

 

 

Their leads had been continuous dead ends: in Blacksburg, their so-called werewolf had been gorging on wolfsbane and apple cider for months. In Johnson City, the whole pack were avid watch collectors. Like the Blacksburg guy, they reeked of apples and wolfsbane. One of the pack members, hunched over a watch and repairing it with intense focus, reeked the strongest – though it masked a cologne that almost felt familiar.

“I reckon you won’t find your wolves here,” the leader of the group had told Niklaus as he leaned against the door. “Try Knoxville?”

Like in Blacksberg, Niklaus had groaned and turned on his heels. “Fair Lady? Do me a favor and do what you will with them.” 

Although Bonnie had lost her humanity, she hadn’t lost her cruelty: as she slashed wooden doors and furniture into pieces, she avoided the very people she was told to dismember. After all, Niklaus had compelled her to be “his,” not to obey his word. 

She pointed her index finger at one, turning on her heels and waiting until he shrieked before returning to her Niklaus.

He was waiting for her underneath the shade of a magnolia, with a petulant expression and flared nostrils. “Another dead end.” 

Bonnie nodded. 

As they walked back towards the motel room they would stay in, Niklaus kicked a car into the nearest tree. “Why aren’t any of them _actual_ werewolves?” 

“I don’t think our informants lied to us.” Bonnie was almost certain of it. She had smelt the fear off each person she questioned. She had heard their heartbeats unnaturally rise as she licked her lips and made idle remarks about her hunger. 

No, the informants had told her the truth: they had believed these people to hold the werewolf gene. Even if they were werewolves, one gaping problem remained. Niklaus couldn’t create hybrids from people who actively used the one herb werewolves were weak to. 

Niklaus let out a snarl, pulling out his keys and tossing them into Bonnie’s hands. “Let’s hope the next city is more… receptive to us than the rest of them.”

 

 

 

Each city was starting to blur together. Small towns were almost all the same in her mind: the only people idolizing them were ones who never lived there. Mystic Falls was the rare exception because it was home. No matter how many times she set foot on that soil, she could feel the earth calling to her in a yearning way it never did anywhere else. 

“It can’t yearn for you, Bonfire,” Niklaus had said, with a slightly amused tone as they got out of the car and headed towards their next lead. “You said you lost your connection to nature?” 

“I did.” She frowned. “It… it feels different, Niklaus. I can’t really explain it.” 

His expression had softened as he reached for her hand and held onto it. “If you say so.” 

Her phone buzzed – presumably with another text or mindless voicemail from her former friends. 

Niklaus raised an eyebrow at her. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” 

“Nope. We should go ahead and find who we came to Memphis for.” She took a lazy glance at her phone, before tucking it back into her jeans pocket.

After weeks of radio silence, in the early stretches of August, Damon had left her a text: _I love you. Stay safe._

She never found the energy to wipe it off her screen. 

 

 

 

When they drove into Memphis city limits two nights later (they’d taken a brief detour in Nashville), Niklaus was almost brimming with rage. The city on the edge of the delta was always humming – and as the sixth stop on their whirlwind tour, Bonnie almost hoped they would find an honest-to-god werewolf this time. 

After she and Niklaus compelled their way into a hotel room, they wandered around Midtown - and Bonnie couldn't fight the adrenaline. Underneath the rows of bright, hanging lights, crowded streets buzzed with hundreds of conversations. If energy alone could feed her, Bonnie would've stood here forever. The awe didn't last long: without her humanity, their lives were so fleeting that she almost pitied them. Their entire lifespan was one flicker in her lightbulb; she would blink, and their sparks fizzled. 

Niklaus shot her an amused smile as he pulled her back from the crowd, from the coffeehouse around the corner, and towards the side streets that would lead them towards their werewolf of the hour. 

"Some things never change," he murmured in her ear.

Bonnie couldn't find the energy to feign embarrassment. "It smelt good."

"The people, or the coffee?" He shook his head, gesturing towards one of the bars in the district.

This space, nicknamed Cooper-Young, was young and vibrant. Bonnie faintly remembered it and its heart and energy: college students would gossip furiously about local happenings at school, while young professionals would release stress through one too many tequilas. It would've reminded her of Mystic Falls, were Mystic Falls larger and not limited to the small group of kids she knew. 

"Both," she said, after some deliberation. 

They passed the people, rushing towards a home in the very edge of the neighborhood. The drunken neighbors paid them no heed; good, Bonnie thought. Niklaus would've fed on them, and they couldn't afford Memphian blood on their teeth. 

Niklaus rang the doorbell, holding in a breath as they waited for the sound of footsteps. He hadn't needed to breathe for over a millennium. Yet his hitched breath made him feel more human than hybrid, like a flickering light rather than the old lover who had promised her eternity. 

Then the door opened, revealing a tall woman with boundless curls and a guarded face. "Yeees?" 

"We're so sorry to bother you, but our car ran out of gas - and our cell phones can't reach anyone." Niklaus held up his phone, motioning for Bonnie to do the same. 

She obliged, holding up a very dead cell phone. Niklaus's smile was so genuine that for a second, she almost forgot how he captured his targets. 

The woman sighed, folding her arms. "Wait right here. I'll bring it out to you." 

"I thought you country folks were supposed to be more trusting," he said, with a slight pout. 

The woman laughed. "Midtown isn’t exactly _country_ , sir. You’ll want to try Fayette County.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Bonnie caught sight of a young man stepping through the living room. He was rather tall, though gangly, with a distrustful expression as he caught sight of Niklaus and Bonnie. 

Niklaus would have leapt for the threshold, if the barrier were down – as it was, neither of them could step inside. The young man approached them and folded his arms. “You guys lost or something?” 

“You could say that.” Bonnie smiled sweetly at him. “Could you let us in, please, um…” 

“Ray. Ray Sutton.” After a few seconds, understanding registered over Ray’s face as he glanced over his shoulder and said, “I’ve got this, Keisha.” 

He closed the door behind him – and Klaus pounced, nicking his wrist before forcing the young man to swallow his blood. Ray would inhale the salty, warm blood, before coughing it back all over Klaus’s pristine white shirt. 

Klaus grimaced, nearly stepping back at the splatters all over him. “I just bought that!” 

Like the other not-werewolves, Ray smelt strongly of apple cider, with a hint of wolfsbane wafting from his wrists. As Bonnie reached out for Ray’s hand, a gleaming, gold watch brushed against her fingers. Its cold metal stung her finger-tips, leaving behind clear, sticky residue. Bonnie peered down at it - specifically, at its crescent moon inset, underneath the hour and minute hands.

To herself, she murmured, "What's this?" 

"A present from a friend," Ray replied, in-between coughing fits that spit out more of Niklaus’s blood. "Stella always hated it when I was late." 

Stella…. Stella…. Bonnie had heard of a Stella, a few years ago. Damon had mentioned two cousins that lived here, Stella & Morie Salvatore. While Bonnie doubted that this Sutton really knew Damon’s cousin, it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. 

“She gave this to you?” 

Ray nodded, in-between coughing fits as he tried to pull away from Niklaus; some blood dripped onto the edge of his nose. “Kind of. Her cousins made it for me.” 

Her stomach dropped to her knees. So she hadn’t thought wrong – somehow, Damon and Stefan were involved in the creation of these golden watches, the ones that smelt like wolfsbane and accompanied every lead they’d tracked. 

“Why isn’t he digesting my blood?” Niklaus growled. “Why aren’t _any_ of them digesting it?” 

"No idea." Bonnie furrowed her brow, tracing over the watch with her fingertips. "Maybe none of them were werewolves.” 

“Normal humans would’ve swallowed it just fine.” Niklaus stomped a foot on the ground, ignoring the indentation as he shook Ray around like a limp doll. "Mere mortals and werewolves alike have feasted and lived to tell the tale. He should've been a bloody vamp by now, not some... some man turning his nose up at my blood." 

Bonnie sniffed. "You mean coughing up your blood." 

"Same difference!" Niklaus flung Ray against the front porch, sending the swing onto the wooden platform – and the front door onto the ground. 

Ray stared at Niklaus, then at his door crashing down the front steps of his house. "Uh, are you...” 

" _No_ ," Niklaus hissed, puffing up his chest and pointing his finger in his best impression of a terrified kitten. "I’m not repairing your bloody door! Come, Bonfire, this isn't worth our time. Just like the last four cities." 

He sidestepped the door on his way out, not bothering to wait for Bonnie as he stormed towards the crowds. (With those narrowed eyes, he could’ve killed the whole neighborhood.) Bonnie caught up to him, latching onto his hand and walking beside him in relative silence. 

Niklaus huffed, taking a deep breath as he intertwined his fingers with Bonnie’s. 

After a few seconds, she slowly said, “We’ll find one. They can’t all be dead ends.” 

“I don’t understand.” Niklaus’s anger melted into confusion as he led Bonnie back into the crowds. “We spent the whole summer trying to create more hybrids, and for what? Nothing?”

She couldn’t imagine a world with hybrids: their mere existence felt like a story snatched from a teenager’s spiral notebook. Everything in nature had a balance. Vampires were balanced by werewolves; witches were balanced by spirits; and even doppelgangers were balancing some unknown entity. Hybrids tainted the balance. If Niklaus continued to bend the rules that governed the world, the world would inevitably collapse upon him. 

Bonnie couldn’t figure out how his supposed benefits would outweigh the risks. Instead of vocalizing such doubts, she pressed her lips together. "How many more leads do we have?" 

"A few. Memphis had three packs, though I don't doubt Sutton alerted them to our presence." 

"That'll work." Bonnie wasn't keen on enacting Klaus's scheme, much less fulfilling it - but his childish anger was enough for her to concede. If he wanted to create his own monsters, she couldn't stand idly by. "We'll go to them, one by one. Where's the next one?" 

"On the other side of town. I've got her address here." 

Bonnie glanced at Klaus's phone, memorizing the address to heart. "Let's go. The sooner we get there, the less time Sutton'll have to warn them." 

A slow smile spread across Klaus's face as he jumped back into his car. "Now _that's_ the Bonfire I remember." 

 

 

 

By the time morning broke, they had two dead ends and one no-show: their last lead in Memphis was on the east side of town. Niklaus had fed at their dead ends, allowing Bonnie to dissemble a few victims along the way. (Er, "dissemble," because she'd always - always - place them back together the best she could.) 

Compared to vibrant, humming Midtown, East Memphis was a sleepier haven, filled mostly with businessmen and school children. Far more residential, too, with numerous passers-by that glanced at them every few minutes or so. 

"They're staring a bit too much," Niklaus growled as they continued to walk past various stores. Their destination – a store their lead worked at – was at the far end, and they couldn’t race each other with bystanders near. 

Bonnie shrugged. "They don’t like the idea of us together.” 

Niklaus’s gait grew more confident as he slid closer to her. She should’ve recoiled at his touch, at how he held her hand and swung it in clear daylight. Yet she couldn’t blame him. Nearly a century later, people still objected to Niklaus and Bonnie. She never planned on rekindling her spark with him, but she couldn’t ignore the sudden glances and hasty retreats of people on the street. 

They had given her and Damon the same looks. At least with Damon, their age difference (or perceived difference) was the main culprit. With Niklaus, there was no mistaking the true source of strangers’ disgust. 

Niklaus sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Hmph. They should mind their own damn business.”

Just before they headed inside, two young men ran towards the opposite end of the shopping center. From this angle, Bonnie couldn’t see much – just the backs of their heads. One, a dark-blond young man, almost reminded Bonnie of Stefan – he even had the same silver band ring, and the same (familiar) scent of roses. 

The other young man was talking on the phone, to someone Bonnie couldn't quite hear. His voice was too familiar as he said, "--the watches. We delivered the last one. Yeah, see you soon." 

(No. It couldn't be, because her favorite wizard was thousands of miles away, about to start a new job. He couldn't afford time off, especially to chase someone who had never called him back.)

Niklaus shot them a bemused glance. "Is it just me, or is everyone obsessed with watches lately?” 

Bonnie shrugged. "I guess so." 

Watches had been the one constant between leads: every supposed werewolf had one around his or her wrist. They were as ubiquitous as lapis lazuli rings and necklaces. 

Bonnie glanced down at her necklace before holding it up to the light. This lapis lazuli necklace, carved in the shape of a bird, was a painful reminder that she would never rejoin humanity’s ranks, and that she had (involuntarily) betrayed nature. For nearly a century, she lost the ability to hear birds sing or feel dirt seeping through her fingers. 

To survive, she had burnt her bridges and erased her heritage. Damon had once told her, that she was creating something new, but his world was a beautiful fantasy. Nature had long since forgotten her, and the pain wouldn’t quite leave – even a century and a half later. She yearned to feel the dirt between her fingertips, and the rising temperature of her blood as she willed fire to sprout from her palm.

A whole century and a half had passed, and yet, she dreamt about what would never be hers again.

Niklaus glanced down at her wrist, adorned only with a charm bracelet Damon had gifted her. “Would you like one, Bonfire?” 

Bonnie shook her head, letting her necklace fall. “I think I’ll be fine.” 

“Figured.” Niklaus closed the distance between them, now that they were alone, and pressed his lips against hers. 

He tasted like remnants of salty blood - and even though she could feel his passion, she couldn’t return it. Her gaze had caught the young men as they rushed into an all-too familiar old, blue car. The old model wasn't strange; people loved their vintage, blue Camaros. As the young man climbed into the passenger seat, he motioned towards Bonnie. Then the driver lowered his sunglasses at her. 

The earth might as well have collapsed beneath her feet, because she _knew_ that judgmental stare anywhere. 

Damon - Damon freaking Salvatore - was here, staring at her as if their relationship had meant nothing. 

If her life were a TV show, it was supposed to be a riveting period piece, not some trashy teen drama that Elena watched religiously. 

("But the boys are hot!" Elena had whined, when Bonnie switched the channel every time. "I have to know which brother she ends up with, _Bonnieeeee_ , don't look at me like that….") 

Bonnie could've sworn she couldn't feel a thing: not Niklaus's passion, Stefan's anxiety, or even the panic firing across her neurons. But she could feel the betrayal and disgust radiating from her boyfriend. The expression didn’t last long – his face melted into an unreadable mask as he and Stefan drove off. 

The humanity "switch" was supposed to be like a light switch: you flip it on or off, willing your brain to adjust for the lack of neurotransmitters coming your way. You lose all your emotions, thriving on logic and reason and the general calm that beings above humanity reached. Or so the legends claimed. Now, Bonnie wasn't so sure - not when she could feel the guilt rushing to her cheeks. 

Damon drove off long before Niklaus broke the kiss - long before Bonnie could rush after him. 

She blinked back tears, holding back the swirling chaos that would flip that damn switch back on and- and - 

"I must've lost my touch," Niklaus murmured as he wiped her tears away. "It's alright, Bonfire. I've got you now."

No, she wanted to say as she fell into his arms. He really didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, everyone!! I'm sorry this update took way longer than I expected, but I still hope you enjoy it. :) As it was conceived before I saw the Originals, the quick and short version is that these wolfsbane watches are my world's equivalent of Moonlight Amulets (but you know, easier to hide + a lot bigger, since they're watches). 
> 
> As always, please let me know how I'm doing with reviews and kudos - your support has been so, so appreciated, and I hope you enjoy what's to come.


End file.
